My Brother’s Yahrzeit

July 14, 2025 Journal No Comments

Remembering Mickey
On the Hebrew calendar, today is the 18th of Tammuz. My older brother, Mickey, died on this day eleven years ago. So I lit a candle yesterday evening, and I tried to be a good person today in observance of the anniversary of my brother’s departure from this world.

I can think of no better way to kick this little journal off than with a story about an adventure Mickey and I had together.

Rascals In Muncie, Indiana

Backdrop
The year was 1976. The month, late June. America was set to celebrate its Bicentennial. Mickey was living somewhere in or near Lawrence, Kansas, but I have no idea what he was doing there. He had had a series of unique jobs since he dropped out of Kansas University five years before, and it was hard to keep up with what he was up to.

The year before, in 1975, my mom and dad went on a tour of Israel. When they returned to Kansas, they were committed to sending each of their sons to Israel. They had five sons, so they took advantage of opportunities when they arose. The first opportunity arose in the summer of 1976. I had just completed my Masters Degree in Connecticut, and my younger brother, Dael, had just graduated high school in Kansas. So in this summer of transitions, my parents bought plane tickets to Israel for Dael and me to travel together.

The trip to Israel was a series of adventures that I will have to relate to you at a different time. This article is about a couple adventures I had together with Mickey before I went to Israel.

To recap, in late June, I was in Connecticut, and my brother Mickey was in Kansas. You might have noticed that the title of this story says Muncie, Indiana. That’s what makes this a typical Waxman brothers adventure.

Summer Plans Of The Whole Family In One Short Paragraph
As I said, my parents got tickets for Dael and me to go to Israel. Their plan was to drive from Kansas to the East coast with Dael and another brother, Matt, on sort of a summer camping trip. They would meet me on the East coast and bring Dael and me to the airport in New York, where we would take off for Israel. That was the simple plan. Two other brothers, Mickey and Joel, would not be able to go on the trip. Neither would Gypsy, the family dog.

What Actually Happened
The first stage of the camping trip was to drive to Muncie, Indiana. Dael went to Muncie, Indiana as a member of his high school Thespian Society for that is where the Regional Thespian Convention was being held that year.

Dael’s thespian troupe was presenting a feature production of a Broadway musical, and Dael had one of the principal roles in the play. Naturally, my parents – Dael’s parents – wanted to be in Gary, Indiana to see Dael perform. So they drove there with the youngest brother, Matt, and they stayed in a motel for a few days, enjoying various performances at the Thespian Convention.

What my parents were aware of but Dael was not aware of was that both Mickey and I had plans to see Dael perform, as well. We thought a surprise appearance after the play would be cool. So here is where the adventures began.

I spotted Mickey making his way up the platform.

Getting To Muncie, Indiana
These were days before email and cell phones so I had no way to communicate with my parents en route to Muncie, I also had no way of knowing where they were staying in Muncie. The only logistical information I had was the day of Dael’s performance, and the day and time of arrival of Mickey’s train.

Yes, Mickey had opted to come by train, which I thought was a wise, if not nostalgic, choice. As for me, I hitchhiked from Connecticut to Muncie, Indiana. Hitchhiking always has its adventures, but those adventures will have to wait to be told at a more appropriate occasion.

I arrived in Muncie, Indiana the day before Mickey’s train was due. I found a cheap motel that was walking distance from the Thespian Convention. I wandered around the campus where the Thespian Convention was being held. I picked up a schedule and saw some of the projects that various groups were working on. I was careful, however, to stay invisible and not engage in conversation lest someone from Kansas recognize me.

The next day, I walked to the train station and watched Mickey’s train pull in. Not many passengers got off the train in Muncie that day. Nevertheless it was a good five minutes before I spotted Mickey making his way up the platform.

The In-cast Outcast
Deep in the belly of the conservative, rural midwest, Mickey was an oddity because of his appearance. He was also an intellectual oddity, but that is something that you can’t see from the outside. In 1976, there was still a stigma attached to a “hippy” style. My hair was not very short, but I conformed more with conventions than Mickey did. He was comfortable with shoulder length frizzy hair, and beard, and worn, faded checked shirt and jeans. He carried one medium-sized duffel bag, and walked along, oblivious to how other people might react to him.

You know what? Muncie, Indiana was not unwelcoming at all. Mickey gave off no hostile or fearful vibes and got no hostile or fearful vibes in return.

I met Mickey on the platform, and we shook hands. That’s how men – specifically brothers – greeted each other back then. I led the way to the motel, stopping at a convenience store to get some snack foods. It was not common to find a refrigerator of any kind in a cheap motel back then, but there was an ice machine, and we did have cold drinks.

Then he gave me a bowl of corn chips. I never knew that Mom was psychic.

Adventure #1 – Mickey Was The Guide
Neither of us had much to say as we walked to the motel. Anybody who ever knew Mickey can relate to that. The sun was nearly down by the time we arrived there. Mickey took a shower, and then proceeded to get food ready in paper bowls and plates.

I barely paid attention to what Mickey was doing. I sat on the carpet, watching the TV.

Mickey stuffed a towel under the door, and closed the window and the curtain. Then he turned to me and asked if I had ever gotten high on ‘Merry Ju Wanna’ (imitating a comedian famous for mimicking Richard Nixon).

I told him that I had tried it a few times but all that ever happened was my throat got sore, and I got the munchies.

“Well,” he began, “I scored some Acca Puckalo Gold (imitating the same comedian), if you want to try it.”

Mickey’s Big Reveal
The choice was mine, but Mickey clearly wanted me try it. When I consented with little reluctance, Mickey confided something I did not expect.

“For a long time, I have dreamed of getting you high,” Mickey said.

He said this with compassion, not with malice. To him getting me high was a way of sharing an important part of his world. And that is what startled me. It was the first time Mickey ever hinted that he thought of me as a unique person, worthy of bonding with at a more than superficial level.

Part of me did not want to inhale smoke to make my throat sore. Part of me was a bit scared because possession of this substance was illegal. But part of me wanted to give it another chance, and I did not want Mickey to do this alone. I actually believe that the legal dangers gave Mickey a bit of a rush.

The Trip
I stayed sitting on the floor, really not expecting anything different from previous experiences. Mickey became a guide, first showing me how to use a waterpipe, then bringing me a blanket and a couple pillows in case I needed to be more comfortable, then using the waterpipe, himself.

At one point I told Mickey I was sinking into the carpet. He more or less chuckled, and brought me something to drink.

The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson was playing on the TV. When I saw that I could predict what anybody would say, I told Mickey, “I saw this one before.”

Mickey stifled his laugh and said, “This is live. Nobody has seen it before. You have deja vu. You’re a little physic (Mickey’s word for psychic), like Mom.” Then he gave me a bowl of corn chips. I never knew that Mom was psychic.

Conclusion:
Not much gun-slinging, whip-cracking, dust-kicking action for an adventure, is it? I call it a Mickey adventure. He was a quiet guy. He and I were never the best of friends, either growing up or afterward. But we came to have a tacit understanding.

His legacy is one of being around when someone needed assistance. I was privileged to be someone he chose to hang out with on occasion. Sometimes he came to my assistance when I didn’t know I needed it. Believe it or not sometimes I came to his.

Adventure #2 – The Invisible Prank

In Dael’s Vicinity
The next day, Mickey and I walked around the campus where the Regional Thespian Conference was being held. Dael’s performance was scheduled for the evening, the last performance on the last day of the convention. Mickey and I planned to go to the theater just before showtime, and possibly meet Mom, Dad, and Matt there.

Meanwhile, in the afternoon before the event, we wandered around watching groups of high school theater people playing around, sometimes working on props or scenery, and generally doing what teens do best – being teenagers.

I thought it would be fun if Mickey and I went to the theater at a time I figured Dael might be there for last minute rehearsals. Dael wouldn’t see us, and we could tell him later that we were there.

The Hill Behind The Theater
So we walked in the direction of the theater. We wound up on a hill overlooking the back of the building where it looked like some stage scenery was being touched up. We did not get too close to the building because a lot of people were walking around and we did not want to be spotted by anyone who possibly knew us.

As it was, neither Mickey nor I knew many of Dael’s friends, and neither of us recognized anybody we saw milling around in back of the theater. As we watched from the hill, more and more kids gathered in the lot behind the theater building. Soon an adult with a megaphone appeared and addressed the gathering:

“Okay, everybody, if you could stand with your schools, and kind of bunch up between the edges of the lot . . There’s more people coming in so – you know – find a spot that’s good for you. Make sure you can see that fellow right up there.”

He pointed right at us, or so it seemed. About twenty yards to our right, a photographer was setting up his camera – what a big camera it was, too – on a tripod. Mickey and I quickly moved away from the attention zone.

His legacy is one of being around when someone needed assistance.

In The Picture
Apparently they were taking a picture of all the participants of the Thespian Conference. We figured Dael and his group were there, somewhere, but we did not see him.

It was my idea to be in the picture. Mickey was a little reluctant, at first, but it did not take much to persuade him to stand with the rest of the conference as though we belonged there. Later we could point out that we were in the picture with Dael and his friends.

There were a lot of people for a group photograph. Some prominent members positioned themselves in the front and center and they held a banner for the 1976 Regional Conference Of High School Thespians – or something like that. Just before the fellow with the megaphone started his countdown from “three,” Mickey and I slid into position toward the back of the group to the extreme left of the photographer. We did not smile or make a funny pose. We just stood there, expressionless.

So now, everybody who got a copy of the group photo of that conference can see Mickey and me in the photo. A little blurred out over on the left side of the photo, in back of everyone else, but that’s us.

Dael got a copy of that picture. The funny thing is, he is not in it. He was busy with something somewhere else at the time of the photo shoot. So Mickey and I stood in for him.